Trading My Sorrows

Today I was at the hospital visiting with my new friend Joanne - an incredible woman of faith - when the words to the song "Trading My Sorrows" came to mind. I haven't been able to shake these words since then, and I am realizing that this song which already has great memories tied to it, will now take on new meanings in my life.

Today, as I hum this old tune late into the evening, I realize that I am thankful for the way the most unexpected, unanticipated things can turn into such rich blessings and moments of joy - even in the midst of sorrow and pain.

Joanne has served as an incredible example of what it means to "Trade our sorrows" over the past week, and I am incredibly thankful our paths have touched - even if they could not have done so if it were not for the pain and suffering she must endure.

Trading My Sorrows

I'm trading my sorrows

I'm trading my shame

I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord.

I'm trading my sickness.

I'm trading my pain

I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord.

Singing yes Lord, yes Lord, yes yes Lord...

I am pressed but not crushed,

persecuted not abandoned.

Struck down but not destroyed.

I am blessed beyond the curse

For his promise will endure,

and His joy's gonna be my strength...

Though the sorrow may last for the night,

His Joy comes with the morning

United In Prayer

One of the things I loved the most about the World Cup is how small it made the world feel. It truly was a blessing to celebrate “futbol” with others from around the globe, and to be able to celebrate together even when cheering for opposing teams.

Sunday night was the final game. All over the world, people were tuned in to see who would win the cup this year: Netherlands or Spain. I was no exception. I went to a fan park to watch the match on a big screen in Johannesburg with thousands of others. People gathered in this way all around the world.

They gathered that night in places in Kampala, Uganda, too.

My night ended in celebrations with new and old friends.

Uganda has a different story to tell.

During the final match, the Somali terrorist group al-Shabab, who is linked to al-qaeda, sent suicide bombers to two places in Kampala where people gathered to watch the match: an Ethiopian restaurant, and a rugby club.

I first heard about the blasts on Monday afternoon, when I heard through friends that Nate Henn of Invisible Children had been at the rugby club and didn’t make it. His death is a huge loss to all humankind… read a bit about him in this IC blog.

As news travelled, I soon learned through a blog posted on CNN by Thomas Kemper, GBGM General Secretary, that there were two UMC Mission Teams in Uganda at the time: One team (from Alabama) was completely unharmed, while the other team (from Pennsylvania) reported that 5 of its 6 team members sustained injuries (some very serious), though all were in stable condition.

This morning, we got a phone call. Due to Rachel’s connections to home and the Pennsylvania Conference, she had been put in touch with the pastor of the church where these missionaries are from. At the time we were told three, we now know only two, of the missionaries (a high school girl and her grandmother) were being sent to Johannesburg for “specific or higher quality medical services.” It took us all day to find their names and which hospital, but as soon as we retained that information, we made our way there.

Both are in ICU, where the medical staff are truly taking great care of them. They even let us break the two-at-a-time rule so the three of us (Rachel, Hannah and I) could greet them together for the first time.

It was a privilege to hold the hands of, speak with and pray for these two incredible women tonight. It is humbling to see their unstoppable desire to be of something greater than themselves, even when they have been through so much. Had it not been for the bombing, they would have made their way home today after serving in Uganda for the past month. No doubt, they are longing for home more now than ever. Yet that was far from the first thing we heard. What did we hear first?

Prayer requests.

Prayers for their three beloved Ugandan friends sitting next

to them at the restaurant, who did not make it:

Pastor Peter, Becky, and Francis.

Prayers for their only teammate who did not sustain severe

injuries, as she stays behind to bury their friends.

Prayers for their 3 teammates who also sustained injuries and were
still to travel to hospitals outside of Uganda
for further medical help.

(We have now received word that they are at a hospital in Nairobi)

Prayers for everyone they left behind: the church, children and
community they worked with and grew to love during the past month.

Lastly: Prayers for themselves: for healing, coping with

pain, for the difficult processing as they try to

wrap their minds around it all.

Their request is a humble one, and yet so urgent. Tonight I was reminded of what a very, very small world we live in. I am grateful that our God hears our prayers, no matter how great or small the world feels. I am grateful for this, and for opportunities to laugh together at a bedside as we decided that the prayers of the children they left behind are probably reaching the ears of God long before ours: there is nothing like the faith of a child!

These are two women of tremendous faith, and no doubt their intense prayer and love for others have sustained them. Wont you please join me in praying with and for them?

Soccer Fever

The seas of people keep us warm in the bitter cold. It was about 20 degrees last night... and I was warmer in the crowd than in my house. Yet I was never uncomfortable or inappropriately touched, etc. There was one near-instance of a creepy drunk guy one night last week, but I didn't even have to say anything - some guy I'd never seen or met sent him away, with a simple turn, smile, nod from me as a thank you... before I went on celebrating with the multitudes of others around me. Can you imagine that - from a guy who wasn't even interested in anything but general comfort in the crowd. (and he wasn't the security guard - I'd already made friends with her, ha)

The fan parks are a world in and of themselves. We went the night of the USA-England opener. Soccer is one of those few places/times I feel I can proudly proclaim I am an American - especially on foreign soil. I (we - my roommates and I) proudly sang our national anthem at the top of our lungs with the few faithful around me (surrounded by England fans prepared to cheer against us). As we did so, people literally lined up to take photos of us singing. One guy said I was helping him fulfill his goal: He wants photos of fans from every country entered in the World Cup. Knowing all the words to a national anthem is a pretty sure sign we weren't lying about where we are from, even if many argued with me because I don't have (as thick of) an American accent, like my roommates do. I guess my accent has changed more than I thought?

Its a beautiful thing, isn't it? The World Cup? I have connected with so many friends from all over the world because of it, and met countless more while out and about. Even if temporary, this is exactly the start of community I was hoping and praying for one month ago. I am less lonely when I get to meet people, feel like I'm alive, dance to my heart's content, watch soccer more than I've been able to in my entire life (I watched at least part of every game the first week… and have done my best to keep up since then, though life must also move on...).

The days are full of energy and excitement, and the nights are COLD but kept warm with Soccer FEVER! With no insulation and no indoor heat here in good ‘ol RSA, its kind of like camping when its 20 degrees outside - every night - without a campfire! woot!

This only adds to why I like to go out as much as possible. It is warmer outside than in (really - unless its terribly windy), and the crowds make it even warmer! AND - the one place we can find a heater is in the car. so I like it there.

There have been more adventures relating to the World Cup than I can count. Perhaps I will have a chance to recount some of them here. But until then… I hope you are watching and may the best team win! That being said… GO USA!!!! (this photo was taken immediately following Donovan's AMAZING goal in the 95th minute of game 3!)

...can YOU feel it?

Wavin Flag

If we are friends on Facebook or you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably noticed I’m a little excited about the World Cup. We’re one week, several celebrations, a few heartbreaks and many good memories in. It is a good time to be in South Africa, and I’m doing my best to be a part of the excitement.

If there is one thing that has been consistent throughout the past 12 or so years of my life, it is that I have been deeply tied to the music which surrounds me. For me, music isn’t just about a good beat to dance to or fun lyrics to sing along to (though I do enjoy both of these things), but often about the heart and soul that has been put into it. These aren’t just lyrics… they’re poems with powerful stanzas put to music that helps me to feel the words. Words on a page can be powerful… but there is nothing like the spoken (or sung) word.

I can tie most moments of my life to music. Or the reverse - when I hear songs from the last 15 years, I can usually tell you what year it is from simply by tracing the memories closely tied to it. Just like before, there are many songs that will forever remind me of this moment now - the World Cup. Earlier this week, two incredible young people in my life (7 and 11 yrs old!) gifted me a mixed CD titled “Prince and Pricilla’s World Cup Mix.” It has lived in our car since then, and I have probably heard it played 10 times over.

The second song on the CD (second only to Shakira and Freshly Ground’s Waka Waka!) is K’Naan’s “Wavin Flag” - the official World Cup anthem. I LOVE this song! It is overplayed, for sure, but it is so uplifting! Lyrics like,
    See the champions, take the field now,
    Unify us, make us feel proud!
    In the streets our heads are lifin’
    As we lose our inhibition.
    Celebration, it surrounds us,
    Every nation’s, All Around Us...

Hearing someone sing this song in South Africa is almost as common as hearing a vuvuzela being blown. Almost.

Earlier this week, I googled the full lyrics to this song. What I found was a huge surprise…

Did you know this isn’t the original song?

Evidently K’Naan was approached by Coke - they wanted to buy rights of this song b/c the chorus and beat would be PERFECT for the official anthem! But the lyrics? A little down and harsh, and NOT what they were looking for. Knowing what this could do for his career, he volunteered to re-write the song for them. What resulted is this song I love.

So what about that old song? I looked it up. and downloaded it. and what did I find? An intense, powerful, meaningful few stanzas packed with truth, pain, stories of survival and hope. Filled with harsh realities I’m not surprised Coke wanted to get rid of - who wants to think about realities of suffering in our world today when we are trying to focus on a global celebration and sports event?

I’ll leave space for your own criticisms for the many variables here. The truth is - had he not re-written this song, I may have never found the old one - and I’m glad I did.

The intense verses and deep, painful truths lined with hope in the chorus draw me into this song. Its a keeper, and one I will continue to reflect on in days (or more) to come. For now, I invite you to consider the “original” lyrics of the official song of the World Cup - a song that has been made into a song of celebration, and started as something very, very different. The music and chorus are the same… the other words are all (very) different.

When I get older, I will be stronger,
They'll call me freedom, just like a Waving Flag,
And then it goes back, and then it goes back,
And then it goes back

Born to a throne, stronger than Rome
but Violent prone, poor people zone,
But it's my home, all I have known,
Where I got grown, streets we would roam.
But out of the darkness, I came the farthest,
Among the hardest survival.
Learn from these streets, it can be bleak,
Except no defeat, surrender retreat,

So we struggling, fighting to eat and
We wondering when we'll be free,
So we patiently wait, for that fateful day,
It's not far away, so for now we say

[Chorus]

So many wars, settling scores,
Bringing us promises, leaving us poor,
I heard them say, love is the way,
Love is the answer, that's what they say,
But look how they treat us, Make us believers,
We fight their battles, then they deceive us,
Try to control us, they couldn't hold us,
Cause we just move forward like Buffalo Soldiers.

But we struggling, fighting to eat,
And we wondering, when we'll be free
So we patiently wait, for that faithful day,
It's not far away, but for now we say...

World Cup

If the world is focused in on the World Cup right now, then South Africa has been taken over by it. and to be honest, I am LOVING it.

I love the sport we Americans call soccer, while most of the rest of the world calls it football. I love the energy of it. I love the global community created by it. I love the passion found in small children everywhere in the world as they play it. I love watching the games here with the wild and crazy crowds. I even love the overwhelming noise of the vuvuzela that goes almost nonstop.

It is good to be in this beautiful, friendly country called South Africa for this incredible event called the World Cup.

(more soon…)

What it means to be loved.

Excerpts from an email sent to a trusted friend today in regard to the situation I wrote about in my last post: “The Face of Injustice.”

2 days later, I'm still angry. But mostly I'm sad. and equally helpless.

The situation I wrote about is deeply personal. It is not just “a man” I wrote about, but a friend. It is difficult because I feel like the whole situation has "moved on" and nothing has been done. I spoke with my friend - the man who has still not been paid - this morning. His boss has "apologized," but still no money has been seen. He says there will be pay tomorrow, we'll see. Poor guy. He can't go anywhere, he literally has nothing and no one.

As with any human situation, there are just so many layers. They have no place to go, and so life goes on. It is such a delicate situation. I want to act on their behalf, but I can't because I know in the end it may very well NOT be better for them. The last thing they need is us making his boss even more angry, pushing him away and reducing chances that they would receive any money. And with xenophobic attacks increasing and threatening to get worse again, they would rather be "safe" here and not paid than being in danger out on the streets of the city. Or freezing in the cold with their 2-year old.

Its difficult when these situations that would make great ethics situations to argue over in a classroom become real-life, and action is so difficult.

Its also difficult when the last two mornings began for them by being yelled at by their boss/landlord. Yesterday her. Today him. Will it ever stop?

Also - I feel sorry for their boss. I have not stopped thinking about this situation, about these people. Though I could easily say a dozen terrible things about him, the reality is I can’t stop thinking about him; I feel so, so sorry for him.

The more I know about this situation and the parties involved, the more this is true. The boss doesn't know how else to treat people. He has learned from his own terrible experiences. He has shared stories of his own life: people have always taken advantage of him, stolen his money, broken his heart, etc. He is lonely. I wonder if he has anyone who really, truly loves and cares for him? The stories I have heard suggest not. They suggest a life of being taken advantage of, being used, abused, and spat upon. If this is what he knows, can we expect him to display different actions?

Don’t get me wrong- I am not excusing him for his actions. He is still responsible. But hearing his story - it helps me to be compassionate, and it breaks my heart for him.

Can you imagine living that life? How can I not feel sorry for him? How can I not see his broken side and also seek to love him as Christ calls us to love, to help to heal the broken, even when it calls us to see beyond a thick black cloud of sin and brokenness?

Music. This is what I do when I am too full of thoughts to function: I listen to music. First, I thought of him when I heard a song called “Either Way” by Guster: “Were you ever kind? Were you always cruel? Who’s ever seen that other side of you? Happened every time, so it must be true: where did you learn its either him or you?”

Seeing both sides of the cycle of brokenness and pain is important to staying grounded in why it is we are called to “love our enemies” - a difficult but foundational part of our call as Christians.

That brings me to point 2 - A prayer that is Scriptural and that we've heard a thousand times, but so honest and realistic and appropriate here - "Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do..." It goes on and describes pain, ways of people hurting others. Yes, I believe deep down inside, the boss knows what he is doing is selfish and wrong. But truly don’t think he is capable of comprehending the extend to which this is true. I dont think he can, because it requires the presence of real love to understand the ways we hurt each other, the depths to which we dig into one another's souls.

So this is where I've been the last couple of days. Silenced but wanting desperately not to be. Yet trying to act in love. It is a difficult, difficult burden to bare, but an essential one, I believe. Central to all I believe, perhaps the most important thing that influences my life and makes me who I am - even if I know I fail at living it out sometimes - is the idea that Christ came in LOVE. As a Christian I am called to LOVE. To LOVE my neighbor as myself. Specifically, Christ calls us to love our enemies...? I read Scripture often that talks about love, it is central to who I believe Christians SHOULD be. Its challenging, though - like this passage (from Luke 6 - Jesus is speaking):

27“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ... 32“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 35But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. ... 36Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

Challenging, but I believe this is perhaps the greatest truth of Christianity. or at least it should be. How different would our world be if Christians truly strived to live this out?

The reality is, I don’t LIKE this man! I don’t know that I would have the courage to stand with him, to be the friend to him he so badly needs. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t see beyond my emotions that are tied up. I can see that deep within is a broken, hurting child of God - who is, like me, created in God’s image. I also know that as a woman of faith, I am called to LOVE - and not just those who love me. I know that I cam called to love my neighbor… and not just my neighbors who love me.

So. Where does this leave me? Thinking about how my emotions are one thing, but I believe love is something entirely apart from that. I am grateful it is. Can you imagine if love rested solely on emotions? I think people letting love rest only in our emotions is a source of so much conflict and heartache in the world.

I desire to move beyond that.

But I don’t know how.

I'm still praying for guidance. I'm still praying for wisdom to know which action to take. Praying that I remember that every great action requires great risk. I am willing to take risk, but this is more difficult when that great risk is also someone else's. I cannot make that decision of risk for them, and we cannot be sure any action I take would be for the greater good.

This does not mean that I must take no action. There must be balance somewhere. I am praying for a clear vision of what the “third way” might be. For now, I remain in hopeful prayer. I remain hopeful because of the hope I am able to share. Because I am told by my friend that the trust we share as he has come to me offers him hope. Because I am able to be a source of light in the darkness. Because I know that in Christ there is hope for all things, and for all people, and because tonight, I am choosing to look for the good in all people - even in the very ones who have persecuted us. It is not easy. No one said it would be. But Christ is my strength, my hope, my redeemer. Christ is the strong rock and foundation on which I stand.

That is what brings me hope.

The Face of Injustice

Today has been a very, very difficult day.

Shortly after our work day ended I entered into a difficult conversation. A man who lives nearby had entered into a struggle with his boss, also the owner of the land on which he and his family live. I will spare the long, complicated, difficult struggle he shared. What I will share is the basic, difficult facts: he and his wife live and work on this property. They earn their keep by working on the property. She works in the house twice/week (she has another job) and he maintains the whole (big!) property in conjunction to their house, including a full garden, feeding the animals, taking care of the yard, functioning as a full time security guard, etc - he works 7 days a week. In exchange, he should be receiving a humble monthly stipend on which they can live, feed their small family, etc.

The problem has been boiling up for a while, but today a line was crossed. Today, this man went to his boss and asked for his salary. He hasn’t been paid in two months, and he can’t wait any longer. His family, like any, has needs - and needs cost money. A seemingly reasonable request, this conversation turned into him getting yelled at, which turned into him being fired and told to leave the property immediately. While witnesses (neighbors, etc) will attest to his consistent hard work day in and day out, his boss insists that this is not the case. His boss even went as far as to say that while at his own place of employment, he watches the property with a pair of binoculars to see if anyone is outside working, and he therefore refuses to pay based on not seeing him while spying…

The result of this conversation led to my friend being asked to leave without any pay from the last few months. Not just to quit working, but to leave the property altogether. Told (dared?) to take what belongings he can carry and move one, then. Obviously, he is angry and scared. He desperately needs this salary promised to him. Obviously, as winter comes in, he needs a shelter to sleep in, a place his family (including a young daughter) can call home.

There are so many layers to this story, if only I could get into it… but in the end, I come to one question: how can this situation be understood as anything but slavery.

I can’t believe I’m typing these words. I can’t believe this situation is so real. Or so personal. Or right in front of my face.

This family has been working for their landowner for two years. She works for free, in exchange for rent and utilities. He works seven days a week, and most of the time (not all) he gets paid a very, very humble salary their family struggles to live on. He reports that he rarely gets the full promised stipend, but often gets paid "slowly, slowly." Now imagine that this already humble salary hasn’t been paid - at all - in months. So he’s working full time for free. and being told what? That at least he has a place to stay.

Come to think of it, slaves even got food to eat. It may not have been much, it may not have been great, but at least they weren’t typically expected to go hungry altogether.

The thing is, I’m not even sure if this man is even in the country legally. I didn’t ask. If he’s not, he can’t go to the police. If he is, the police may not help him anyway. This is a small town. People are friends here. Friends help their friends, even at the cost of such great injustice.

What can I do? How can I help? How can this injustice exist so openly in my own backyard?

I am so angry. I am so sad. I am so frustrated. I am confused and bitter and I have so many questions. I hardly know where to begin.

I live in South Africa. The history of Apartheid is not distant here. The reality of Apartheid is not forgotten and has certainly not gone away. I know many great white people who have contributed to the greater good of South Africa on behalf of justice even when it cost them something. Today, I am trying to remember these people, because otherwise, it would be really easy to be angry and bitter toward my own race as I watch a wealthy white man treat a black man this way because - it seems - he can. (and yet he CAN'T!)

This is not the end. I am sure I will post more. I hope this story will bring a good ending, an ending of wrongs made right, and ending of injustices coming to bring justice. An ending that gives evidence to God’s grace and love and faithfulness. I know all of these things are present, and I look forward to the day I can bring forth these messages. To the day I can tell you all about how God was with us through it all.

Until that day, I pray for all modern-day slaves all over the world. I have been told they’re out there. I’ve heard stories and read statistics. About a month ago I told my roommate it has become a new(?) interest of mine, something I have been reading and praying a lot about. Something I feel God calling me to learn more about. I want to learn more and get involved.

Now I’m involved, and I don't know where to turn. Now I’m learning through first-hand experience and I miss my "safe" news articles. Wanting to help feels very different when its third-party. But then… Jesus was never a third-party to those he came to help. If I am called to be the hands and feet of Christ as a missionary in South Africa, I pray for God’s guidance and strength and courage and knowledge in the days that come. I pray I can use my voice for a greater good. I know that had I not been in that exact place at that exact time tonight, even this story would not have been heard. This man would not have been able to share with us, or to walk away from the conversation as he did, telling us, “now I have hope. Thank you."

Thank you, friend, for being strong, courageous and honest, and for letting me be a part of your story.

Thank you, reader, for reading through my unfiltered blog post as I try to make sense of senselessness, to find the grace amidst chaos, and seek ways to bring hope to the abused, forgotten, or neglected.

Pray for us all.

The Sound of Music

Tonight I was blessed with the opportunity to spend the evening supporting one of the incredible young people in my life. Nissia, the youngest of Mama Tembo’s five daughters, is a joyful, lovable ball of energy, and more than once “dramatic” (in the good sense) is a word I have used to describe her.

Nissia came home in February excited that her school was holding auditions for a musical she had never heard of, “The Sound of Music.” Excited, Hannah, Rachel and I immediately began to sing our favorite songs from this classic musical. We laughed, sang, even wrote out words to songs so we could teach her before her call-back. Every time we turned around, Nissia was practicing!

Her hard work paid off. Nissia was cast as one of the children, and her joy and excitement could not have hit a higher level (even for Nissia - and that’s really saying something!). We immediately promised we would see her when performance time came.

I’m not sure where time has gone since then (its almost June!), but the time finally arrived. Tonight, we filled our car and made our way to her beautiful school. To be honest, I was REALLY nervous for her - like a proud mother! To no one’s surprise, though, she did AMAZING, and the show was great! I am so proud of her, and so happy to have been able to be a part of this big night for her - her first time in a theatre production!

During intermission, the guest of honor, “grandfather of South African Theatre” John Kain was introduced. During his short speech, he noted that he has enjoyed watching the audience and proud parents almost more than the students. He too questioned who was more nervous… parents? or students? I laughed as I realized that for the first time, I felt like the proud mother.

It is good to be here. To support her like my child, or like a kid sister; to be a family. It is good that though we have struggled together and independently through a great deal, on night’s like tonight we get to come together and celebrate accomplishments too.

It is good to be family.